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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518471">Pride and Beastliness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchworkgargoyle/pseuds/patchworkgargoyle'>patchworkgargoyle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Beast!Jaskier, Beauty and the Beast!AU, M/M, Some angst, Strangers to Lovers, brief mention of geralt and yen, cursed!Jaskier, i will try to make it as slow burn as i can, mainly fluff, no beta we die like witchers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchworkgargoyle/pseuds/patchworkgargoyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"A hulking thing covered in brown fur, hunched on its hind legs like a werewolf and yet much bigger. Stranger. Horns twisted from its head, its bestial lips pulled back in a feral snarl. Those were the teeth that furrowed the bones. But Geralt couldn’t see much else. It pounced."</p><p>Beauty and the Beast!AU except Jaskier is the beast. I am Bad at Summaries.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Rumours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here I go again with an AU for this fandom! I hope you enjoy!</p><p>I'm really only familiar with the show, so please let me know if I've done something incorrectly!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roach brought Geralt into the village at a leisurely pace, her hooves making a slopping, sucking sound with each step. Drenching rain had turned Lettenhove into a dull, dank, muddy mess, yet rushing only a few metres more to the inn’s stable would make neither horse nor rider any less damp. So Geralt hunched patiently against the weather and the curious, wary stares from the townsfolk swiftly going about their business, and finally the stable loomed near and he swung himself off of Roach. The boy in the stable took her reins with wide eyes, drawn inevitably to the sword slung across his back, then to the one that had been strapped to Roach, until Geralt handed him a few copper coins.</p><p>“See that she’s fed,” he said, and the boy, coins clutched like a treasure, nodded frantically and led Roach inside. She huffed in annoyance and Geralt kept his fond smile to himself as he walked through the inn door.</p><p>The dull noise of conversations quieted as he stepped through, and, unbothered, Geralt approached the innkeeper behind the bar. Clutching a dulcimer, a bard did his best to rouse his crowd again. The stout man at the counter was wiping off a stein like it would keep the witcher from speaking to him. And yet.</p><p>“Have a room free?”</p><p>The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed as they flicked up to Geralt’s face and he could smell the fear oozing from him. “For how long?”</p><p>Inwardly, he sighed. “A night. Maybe two,” he said. Geralt left out the fact that he’d likely be back, with a guess that the man wouldn’t take too kindly to that knowledge.</p><p>“It’s fifty copper for two nights. I won’t take no maybe’s, Witcher,” the sweating man frowned, thumping the stein on the wooden counter. Geralt drops sixty copper next to the mug.</p><p>“And a meal and ale.”</p><p>The man grumbles the directions to the room and tosses the key in his direction, and the witcher catches it with ease. It’s the same song and dance he gets nearly everywhere. <i>At this point,</i> he thought on his way to his lodging, <i>I’d worry if I wasn’t met with derision.</i> Amused at the idea, Geralt made quick work of changing out of his damp clothes and returned to the common area, where he found the furthest, quietest table to inhabit. As soon as it became difficult for them to twist their necks so far, the other villagers and travelers stopped their staring and took up their gossiping again. A few minutes of waiting earned him a bowl of stew, a small bread roll, and a pint brought by the innkeeper’s wife, which he received with a hum of thanks.</p><p>It was a village like any other, a treatment like any other. Geralt wondered why he let the rumour Yennefer told him drag him this far into the middle of Redania, but if he could find someone interested in giving him a contract it could be worth his curiosity.</p><p>❀❀❀</p><p>“Yen,” Geralt said, tucking one of her dark curls back into place behind her ear. They were still tangled together on her bed, sweat cooling on their skin. Her violet eyes blinked open, a wry smile twisting her full lips.</p><p>“I know what that tone means, Geralt of Rivia,” she replied, half teasing and half chiding, “You’re leaving tomorrow.”</p><p>He grunted in response.</p><p>“Well, at least you could pop by.” The smile stayed, but she extricated herself from his limbs to grab a robe so sheer that it barely does its job. “Where are you off to next?”</p><p>“Likely up north again, or around to Temeria.” He sat up and watched Yennefer wander the room, admiring the way the firelight silhouetted the curves of her thighs.</p><p>“I did come across an odd story recently, if you’re interested in going north. Apparently there’s some cursed beast roaming a ruined manor house in Redania that’s been there for years. Could be fun,” she said, fussing with her hair.</p><p>“Only fun if there’s money involved,” he rumbled. He didn’t like the idea of wasting his time chasing something down, let alone something that might not exist at all.</p><p>Yen glanced over her shoulder with a wicked grin. “That’s not what you said a moment ago,” she teased, laughing when he rolled his eyes. “Truthfully, I’ve heard this rumour a few times over the years. It’s always some sort of great beast, a ruined castle, a village in despair. Might be some truth to it.”</p><p>“Where’s this beast supposed to be, anyway?”</p><p>“A tiny, backwater town called Lettenhove.”</p><p>“Hm.” He’d never heard of it.</p><p>Sauntering back to the bed, Yennefer sat down, leaning over the witcher and trapping him under her arm. “It was nice to see you, Geralt. Maybe I’ll see you again in another year or ten, once you tire of tracking beasts and monsters.”</p><p>Geralt snorts, but doesn’t respond. She knows what it means.</p><p>❀❀❀</p><p>So here he found himself, sitting in Lettenhove’s only inn. It was a strange village, he had to admit. Some of the run-down buildings look like they were once quite grand, and look better suited to a town if they weren’t sagging in on themselves. There was evidence of a wall around the outskirts, the rocks likely chipped away to repair the crumbling structures. But Geralt wasn’t here to judge them on their architecture.</p><p>He sat nursing his ale and listened to the other patrons, to the bard plucking away on his instrument. One couple wondered why he was here, a group of farmers chattered about their fields. Nothing particularly interesting, no mentions of a beast in a ruin. <i>Maybe Yen’s rumour was just that.</i> Geralt waited, however, until the bard finally finished his tinny, off-tune playing. Soon as the man met his stare, Geralt beckoned for him to come over. The bard stiffened and paled, but hesitantly picked his way over.</p><p>Before the shaking man could speak, Geralt asked, “What do you know of a beast around here?”</p><p>The bard stuttered something that sounded like a question, but one of the farmers stood. “You’re looking for the beast?” he asked, shoving his way towards Geralt’s corner. His clothes were better than his companions, his face less lean. A well kept signet ring shone on his right middle finger. There was a challenge in his posture that Geralt knew could mean trouble to someone someday, but as long as it wasn’t him, he wouldn’t rise to it.</p><p>“Heard a few things is all,” Geralt said.</p><p>“You’ve heard right, Witcher. I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along and finally put that thing down. Name is Nicodem Bosko,” the farmer sits in the free seat across from Geralt and the bard scrambles away. Nicodem doesn’t bother to ask Geralt his name, and he’s not keen to offer it.</p><p>“It’s causing problems?”</p><p>“No one who goes to check on it comes back, and year after year the hunting’s gotten worse. It’s eating everything, deer and pheasant alike-” the man’s ranting sounds rehearsed, and Geralt’s interest wanes. It’s like every damn legend he’s heard.</p><p>“But it doesn’t come out and ravage the countryside?” Geralt interrupted, unable to hide the sarcasm slipping into his tone.</p><p>Nicodem scoffs. “Mock all you like, but it’s true. I’ll pay you a hundred and fifty crowns to bring me back its head.”</p><p>Geralt sizes the man up. It looks like a price he could pay, but he doubts the beast is anything like the bullshit this farmer is spewing. “And if it’s not a beast? What do I get for my troubles then?”</p><p>“I’ll pay you double what you spent on a room here, at the least. But I guarantee you’ll find that beast.”</p><p>With a sigh, Geralt said, “Fine. Where’s it at?”</p><p>Nicodem eagerly gives him directions, and once he’s satisfied that the witcher knows everything, he finally leaves Geralt to his drink. The hatred the man had for the creature, whatever it might be, was plain and vicious. Geralt could almost taste the scent of the man’s excitement at the prospect of the beast’s death. He loathed men like Nicodem, and was glad to get back to his room for the night and away from the lingering stench.</p><p>❀❀❀</p><p>The next morning he sets off with Roach. As Nicodem had said, there was an overgrown road off of the main plaza which would take Geralt to the old manor house. It used to be cobbled, but nature had done well to take back its territory as weeds and ferns had long overtaken the masonry. Yet there was less mud kicked up by frequent use, so Geralt couldn’t complain. Trees hung over the road, lending shelter from the rain and darkening his path. His shoulders relaxed as the bustling noise of the village faded quickly.</p><p>As with most nobility, the former viscount and viscountess of Lettenhove had set their land as far away from the common people as was comfortable, so Geralt settled in for an ideally uneventful ride. Nicodem seemed to know a great deal about the family that lived there, despite the fact that they hadn’t existed for close to a hundred years. Whatever stake the farmer had in this, it certainly wasn’t selfless. But it wasn’t Geralt’s business, either.</p><p>The forest grew denser as they traveled further, and the sun slowly climbed to its zenith, dappling the path with a meagre light. He didn’t bother stopping to eat. With any luck, he could get to the manor, discover the lack of any cursed beast or dispatch what could be a mangy warg, and leave. </p><p>Soon enough, Geralt spotted the evidence of stone walls bordering the path, choked with creepers, and the road gave way to an avenue bordered by great, towering oaks. What once were lawns were now infested with brush and bracken, and up ahead he could see the walls of the manor. </p><p>Whatever brought this family to its knees must have been quite powerful, for the manor was still grand despite the decay. Mortar had sloughed away in most places, exposed stone weathered by time and fuzzy with moss, but the walls still stood tall. The crenelations and peaked roofs were worn, or fallen. Many of the windows lacked glass and the wood that had held the glass panels looked jagged and toothy. The watery sunlight only served to make their black maws more stark. Oddly, while the large gate doors had fallen off long ago, they seemed to have been propped up against each other between the entryway, a gap left between them. It didn’t look stable by any means.</p><p>As Geralt rode closer, he could feel his medallion begin to hum against his chest, growing more insistent. He stopped at the last oak tree.</p><p>“Alright, Roach. Wait for me,” he said, dismounting. She butted her head against his shoulder, so he gave her neck a firm pat before grabbing his other sword from the saddle, strapping it to his back alongside the other. Geralt also grabbed a few potions, unsure of what he may be facing. It certainly wasn’t going to be a mere warg. The vibration of his medallion wasn’t a reassuring sign, either, so he prepared how he could.</p><p>The thick wooden doors were coated in lichen, the metal bands rusted, and as Geralt approached he saw a large wooden beam holding the two up. Maybe Nicodem was right; if whatever this beast was could haul around beams like that, it might be more trouble than this was worth. </p><p>Inside the walls, the grounds were in even more disarray. Shattered statues lay scattered beside a stagnant fountain, and rose bushes tumbled out of once well-tended garden beds. Turning, Geralt saw a pile of bones against the inner wall, clearly accumulated over many years. After scanning the rest of the garden, Geralt felt sure the beast was not nearby, but he slowly drew his silver sword and swiftly approached the pile.</p><p>He used the tip of his sword to rifle through it. It was a mess of mammals and birds, mostly deer, their angular skulls and blunt teeth prominent, but nothing human that he could tell. Some limbs had been scored by what Geralt guessed were very large teeth. Why would an unthinking beast pile up its remains and not bury them? The evidence was growing, but he didn’t yet know what it led to, and he already felt a little weary at what may come.</p><p>Inching back to the main path, Geralt made his way toward the doors of the manor itself, passing more overwhelmed gardens. There was movement. His eyes flicked to the windows staring down at the grounds. Nothing moved, though, possibly, a tattered curtain caught in a breeze at the top of one tower. Small larks chirped away in the roses.</p><p>Something cracked from within the manor. Bottom floor. Close. Geralt kneeled, drawing Yrden into the dirt. Looking up again, he saw the beast.</p><p>A hulking thing covered in brown fur, hunched on its hind legs like a werewolf and yet much bigger. Stranger. Horns twisted from its head, its bestial lips pulled back in a feral snarl. Those were the teeth that furrowed the bones. But Geralt couldn’t see much else. It pounced.</p><p>The leap brought it only metres away from the witcher, and then it was racing on all fours. He darted back, hoping to lure the creature towards the sign. Bare seconds passed and the beast darted, around the sign.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>With a roar it was on him. Geralt parried the claws flying at his face, but was forced back. He tried the sign for Aard, but the thing was quick, slashing at his hands. As it reared, he twisted away. He swung, slicing at the beast’s flank. The sound it made was too much like a scream.</p><p>It kicked out. Geralt jumped away, onto a low wall, and it clung to the wound in its side. Shocking blue eyes caught his gaze, something like emotion twisting its features, but it roared again and sprung at him.</p><p>It seemed to be herding him back to the gate as it attacked him, a constant growl thundering from its chest. Geralt could only defend, tripped up by too many gardens, overpowered by the beast’s strength. He cut the thing some more, lacerating its arms, but it kept advancing, claws slashing, catching his armour, his sword. It gashed his arm, tearing through his shirt like parchment. This had to end soon.</p><p>He went to sign Aard again, but one giant paw smacked him, knocking him off his footing. That was all it took. The beast grasped Geralt’s neck, and before he could bring his sword up, it flung him into the wall, his head smashing into the stone, and he fell to the ground.</p><p>Before the darkness took over his vision, the beast’s face appeared over him. Geralt could have sworn he heard it say, “A witcher,” but then, he passed out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Curses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“First you attack me, then you lock me up and bribe me.”</p>
<p>“You came at me with a sword!"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Meant to have this up for y'all yesterday, but at least it's here now!<br/>Please enjoy! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ache in Geralt’s head woke him before anything else. He sat up with a groan, noting the damp chill of the stone beneath him seeping into his clothes. Hesitantly one golden eye cracked open. A row of iron bars, the door locked shut, faced him, and he was bracketed by rough-hewn stone walls. His swords and belt full of potions were piled up beyond the bars. He sighed. <i>Of course.</i></p>
<p>Letting his throbbing skull lean back against the wall behind him, Geralt settled in to wait. Either the beast had dragged him in here, or it had some help from someone within the castle. It didn’t matter; he’d be checked on at some point. They’d missed the dagger in his boot, anyway. Judging by the light that filtered through a small window across the way, the night had come and gone. He hoped Roach was alright. There was little else to do, though, and so Geralt adjusted himself until he was kneeling, and slipped into meditation. Or tried to.</p>
<p>He heard the footsteps first. Heavy. Claws clicking against the floor. Then, muttering in a low voice. The closer it came, the more exasperated it sounded. A door opened outside of his range of view, and the mutterer descended into the room. Geralt’s medallion hummed against his chest.</p>
<p>“-so <i>hopefully</i>, if I get my act together, this will work. Yes, it’ll work. Grand. Perfect!” the low voice rumbled. The beast’s massive paw - hand? - wrapped around the corner of Geralt’s cell, and it leaned into view. The furred face was some mix of bear, wolf, and human, with a broader, but shorter snout than either animal, and blue, very human eyes. Long canines jutted down from its upper jaw. As soon as their eyes met, Geralt glaring at the strange face, the beast flinched back.</p>
<p>“Oh gods, you’re awake!” the beast yelped and came closer again, the look on it’s face more curious than shocked now, “I didn’t quite expect that. You really do look a fright with the blood caked into your hair like that. That scowl of yours could rival mine!”</p>
<p>Geralt’s eyes narrowed. Was it mocking him? The beast sounded human, despite the deep growl of the words it spoke. He recalled the scream it gave when he slashed its side. Glancing down, he saw a makeshift bandage tied around the beast’s torso made of… floral curtains? A similar fabric was wrapped around its arms, all of it now mildly blood stained.</p>
<p>“Yes, you did quite a lot of damage, you great brute,” the beast said sourly, “You’re certainly the first to have dealt this kind of damage to me. Most mercenaries see me snarl and bolt.” It - or maybe, he - pauses, as if to give Geralt a chance to respond. Yet he kept silent, observing the creature.</p>
<p>“You aren’t a mercenary, though, are you? It’s been a long time, but I remember what witchers are. Two swords, strong as an ox, built like a mountain...” The beast’s eyes dragged over his body and Geralt fought back his own bewilderment, but couldn’t help the twitch in one of his eyebrows. “And broody enough to rival an old hen. Do you always look so grumpy? Is that part of the whole witcher thing?” The beast gestured to the whole of Geralt with one paw.</p>
<p><i>Will it ever shut up?</i> he wondered.</p>
<p>“What are you?” Geralt asks.</p>
<p>The beast placed its hands on its hips. “Rude.”</p>
<p>He cocks an eyebrow and knows it won’t take long for the creature to speak again. With a sigh, it continues. “Though I much prefer to be called Jaskier, <i>who</i> I am is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove,” the beast says, puffing up his chest, though he quickly deflates. “Or so I believe. My father and mother and brothers have been gone for what I assume is an exceedingly long time and I’m fairly certain they’re dead. Therefore, I would be the last remaining viscount. <i>What</i> I am, my friend, is extremely cursed.”</p>
<p>“I’m not your friend,” Geralt replies, unimpressed.</p>
<p>“Yes, well, you <i>could</i> be, if you help me remove this bloody curse. You witchers do that, right? At the very least, I can pay you handsomely. There is quite a lot of unused gold in my coffers.”</p>
<p>“First you attack me, then you lock me up and bribe me.”</p>
<p>“You came at me with a sword! As I said, most people who come here see me and run! The fools that stay very quickly realize they weren’t much of a match and run as well. Besides, I didn’t know you were a witcher when you wandered in.” Jaskier pulled a key out of a very poorly sewn pocket in his ratty, ripped trousers. “I also didn’t know if you’d attack me again as soon as you came to. Oh, I’ve forgotten my manners! What is your name, anyway?”</p>
<p>Geralt got to his feet with another sigh. “Geralt of Rivia.”</p>
<p>“Great. Brilliant. It’s wonderful to meet you, Geralt. Now, before I let you out, you’re not going to attack me? Or leave before you break this curse on me and never come back?”</p>
<p>From the way his medallion reacted, Geralt didn’t doubt that it was a curse. The beast seemed human enough, if irritating, and if what he said was true, the reward could be worth the hassle. Yet it was hard to read Jaskier’s face, and if he was lying it was difficult to tell. Geralt didn’t hear his heart stutter, though, like some do. It was fast, but steady enough.</p>
<p>“Depends on the curse,” he said, instead of agreeing.</p>
<p>“Well unfortunately for us both I’ve decided you’re staying in there until you agree,” Jaskier stated as he examined the key with feigned interest.</p>
<p>He pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he’s some selfish noble. “Some curses I can break, some I can’t. I can’t guarantee I’ll succeed.”</p>
<p>Lunging, Jaskier grabbed the bars of the cell with a loud snarl. The door clanged on its hinges. “I need it broken! I can’t keep going like this! I don’t know how long it’s been, but I’m sure I’ve been alive for longer than I should be. I will go mad! I’m trapped in these walls, don’t you understand!?” Fury and desperation contorted the beast’s face, and Geralt nearly flinched away. His shoulders heaved as he breathed through his panic. Then, as his horns clanked against the iron, Jaskier rests his head against the cell. “I need this done.”</p>
<p>“I could just kill you if you like. Could be easier,” Geralt said dryly.</p>
<p>Jaskier stepped back with a bitter laugh, but the panic and despair faded away. “I would rather stay alive, thank you <i>very</i> much, though that seemed a lot like a joke to me. Do you really have some humour behind that stoic facade of yours?” </p>
<p>Geralt rolled his eyes. “Let me out and I’ll do what I can.”</p>
<p>“Fine, fine. Just don’t up and leave on me,” Jaskier said, finally unlocking the door and swinging it open for Geralt. He didn’t miss the wince the action caused. “Well, my good Sir Ger-”</p>
<p>“Don’t call me sir.”</p>
<p>“-<i>Geralt</i>, let me show you to your room. I’ll give you the grand tour on the way!”</p>
<p>He collected his things from the floor and followed Jaskier out of the dungeon. On the other side of his former cell wall, there were shelves of old, dusty preserves and a rather large rack of wine, nearly empty. The door at the top of the stairs let them out into the kitchen, which was a disaster of dishes and pots and pans.</p>
<p>“Please excuse the mess. I am living a bachelor’s life after all,” Jaskier said, and Geralt only grunted in response. It wasn’t his place to judge.</p>
<p>A hallway and what used to be some well-concealed servants’ doors, left open now that propriety was long gone, led to a wide dining hall. The table was coated in a thick layer of dust, the sunlight streaming from the windows catching the motes in the air like stars. It looked as though the table had been set for a party, long ago. Above the mantle across the room was a coat of arms. A shield of sky blue and gold, held by a pegasus and an eagle. Oddly enough it looked familiar, but Geralt pushed that thought aside for now. </p>
<p>Jaskier babbled away as they walked through the hall and through to the foyer of the manor. “-And through that door over there is the sitting room, as well. It’s all very standard, or what I remember as standard at least. I’m sure things have changed over the years. Have they, do you know?”</p>
<p>“I’m not exactly a sought-after dinner guest,” he deadpanned. As they approached the doors to the outer courtyard where they’d fought, he stepped away and said, “I need to get my horse.”</p>
<p>“Oh, do you mean that very stubborn mare outside? She wandered up to the gate last night but refused to come in. Took one look at me and kept her distance. It’s a smart move but I admit, it hurt my feelings.” The beast held a paw against his chest and looked pained, then glanced at Geralt to catch his reaction.</p>
<p>Geralt shook his head and made his way to the gate, ignoring the offended gasp behind him. Soon he saw Roach poke her head between the doors as she sniffed the air, and he whistled. With a whinny she trotted up to him, nudging at him and biting his shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he murmured. Realizing Jaskier wasn’t there, Geralt looked back at the manor. Jaskier stood in the shadows of the doorway wringing his large hands with an unreadable expression. Roach noticed him at the same time, her ears swivelling every which way as she shorted, displeased.</p>
<p>“Are there stables?” he asked as he took up Roach’s reins.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes, just around- well,” Jaskier unknowingly stepped out of the doorway, but when the sun hit his face he paused. “I could just tell you, don’t want to spook your horse away again.”</p>
<p>Geralt shrugged. He could tell that Roach was hesitant, but she wasn’t primed to run. “Roach will be fine. Where are they?”</p>
<p>He followed the beast around the side of the manor, past a few outbuildings that had begun to crumble away, overrun with weeds. The stables weren’t in the best shape - leaning a bit too far to one side for Geralt’s liking - but he still brought Roach to the sturdiest looking stall and began taking off her tack.</p>
<p>“Why on earth did you name your horse Roach?”</p>
<p>The witcher shrugged again. Hard to explain a tradition.</p>
<p>“She certainly deserves a better name than that, following you into my cursed clutches. Something heroic.”</p>
<p>“Heroes get themselves killed,” he said, and slung his gear over his shoulder,  “Why are you cursed, anyway?”</p>
<p>The sigh his question earned was so melodramatic Geralt had to close his eyes and pray for patience. Jaskier had leaned on the worse side of the stables and the timber creaked with the heaving of his chest, and he was nearly taller than the structure until he hunched back down again. “Some bitter old hag showed up here one night and demanded to be let in. But we had guests and everyone was busy, so I had to turn her away. She kept insisting, but I had to refuse. Truly <i>she</i> was the selfish one, but I guess she must have taken my refusal too much to heart,” he shifted a little, favouring his wounded side and gingerly folding his bandaged arms. </p>
<p>“She mumbled something about being a spoiled pig, turned into a very angry yet <i> very</i> beautiful woman, said something in Elder, and vanished. Next I know I am screaming in pain, everyone is running, I pass out, and when I come to I am wholly alone and a great, ugly, lumbering brute.”</p>
<p>“So you pissed off a sorceress by being a brat,” Geralt snorted.</p>
<p>“I most certainly was <i>not</i> a brat!” Jaskier’s low voice pitched higher in indignation, “She was imposing upon <i>us</i>, and expected a warm welcome? And curses me for what feels like eternity for refusing her ridiculous request?” His arms flailed as his emotions rose, and Geralt saw his claws retracted in and out of the tips of his fingers like a cat as they flexed. How long had he been in this form for, that this was second nature? Or did this form come with instincts of its own? If it was modeled off another creature, it wasn’t one Geralt was familiar with.</p>
<p>“She clearly thought so. Curses are meant to teach lessons. The only ways to break them are by magic, which is difficult, or learning the lesson,” he said, and started to walk back to the front courtyard.</p>
<p>“What happens when there isn’t a lesson to be learned, as I haven’t done anything wrong?” Geralt didn’t need to turn around to hear the childish pout on Jaskier’s strange face.</p>
<p>“Better wish me luck, then.” <i>And patience,</i> he thought, but declined to add.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are much loved, and if you like, come find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/hugatiefling">Twitter</a> and <a href="https://patchworkgargoyle.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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